Frogwart Risenshine
by Captain Whitney
genre:
Science Fiction & Fantasy
description:
Technically untitled. This is just a little thing I've been working on. Not really sure if it will go anywhere.
The chapter titles are dates, the book is in the form of diary entries.
chapters
chapter 1:
Day of the Gallows -- New Moon
chapter 2:
Eve of Crows -- Waxing Crescent
chapter 3:
Bloody Feathers -- Half Full
chapter 4:
Still Bloody Feathers -- Half Full
chapter 5:
Contented Cat -- Waxing Gibbous
chapter 6:
Still Contented Cat -- Waxing Gibbous
chapter 7:
Fallen Hope -- Waning Crescent
chapter 8:
Day of Burnt Remains -- New Moon
Day of the Gallows -- New Moon
chapter 1
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updated 07/09/08
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4203 characters
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2 people liked it
You know, I have been studying magic for 75 years and I still don’t know what I am. Am I a warlock or a wizard? A magician? A mage?
Girls have it easy, they’re just witches.
In any case, Professor Thornwroot says it doesn’t matter if we know what we’re called so long as we know what we are. Arsenic, by any other name, would taste as bitter and all that sort of thing.
Professor Thornwroot is very serious about us knowing what we are. The only problem is: he won’t tell us.
“It wouldn’t mean anything if I just told you!” he exclaims at random intervals – oft times when we haven’t asked him to tell us but are quietly mixing poisons.
I must admit: I have a thing for poisons. While the others groan when Professor Thornwroot tells us to kindle a fire under our cauldrons and begin stirring, I respond with ready enthusiasm. I love potions in general, and poisons are my specialty.
And antidotes.
We’re not supposed to make antidotes in class – or at all, for that matter – for fear we will be tempted to use them. But I can’t help it. The power of an antidote astounds me – to be able to completely stop the poison from attacking. So what if it is white magic?
Of course, potions are not the only thing we are studying.
We started code-breaking to-day, because if you cannot crack a prince’s code you are not truly fit to keep the princess anyways.
Not that I can imagine EVER wanting to kidnap a princess. They are so whiney.
Yesterday, Spitwad turned one of the princesses from the nearby school’s book bag in-to a goat which proceeded to eat her school papers and, instead of socking him or turning him in-to a frog, she began to cry.
If there is one thing I cannot tolerate, it’s a blubbering female. The other guys left, laughing, but I hung around.
“Hey, relax, it’s no big deal.”
Apparently dissatisfied with my comforting she began to shriek at me: “NO BIG DEAL?! The final draft of my History project was in there! Along with a piece of embroidery I’d been working on for months, and ... and ...” here she began to cry again, “And my BFF charm bracelet!”
Honestly, princesses.
I wish a goat would eat my homework, thus giving me an excuse.
(Maybe I’ll tell Professor Thornwroot that to-morrow. If nothing else, I’ll get extra credit for lying)
Anyways, where was I? Ah, yes: Code breaking.
Our teacher in this subject, Professor Thistlewood, can’t be more than 150, but, by the sound of it, he’s been everywhere and seen everything.
A short while ago a very famous prince was going to marry a (also very famous) princess. The princes started to babble pointlessly and the princess turned in-to a bat. Professor Thistlewood was fully responsible.
An ogre ate a sage just as he was on the brink of an amazing discovery, but it wouldn’t have done so without a bit of egging from Prof Thistlewood.
And the Great Diamond Wall didn’t collapse because of termites.
Of course, he didn’t tell us this himself (it’s bad luck to brag) but wrote a detailed journal, which was published by Thank Badness Publishing Co.
This is one of the two reasons I’m keeping a journal. The other is that Professor Thornwroot says it is the only way we’ll find out “what we are”.
But what are we supposed to write about? What I ate for breakfast? (Rotten strawberries on moldy WHOLE WHEAT toast, because my mother is doing another of her crazy diets) My extreme lack of sleep? (I’m just impressed I can tell one end of my quill from the other) I’m wearing orange and black socks? (They’re really cool, actually)
Well ... how about our lessons?
History class was boring to the point of death last term, but this term we’re studying PRACTICAL JOKES. This week it’s the basic Hollow’s Fool jokes, but next week it’s on to the more ... exciting pranks.
We’re studying dramatic entrances (everything from the usual puff of purple smoke to flying in on a magically enlarged bat) and grand introductions in etiquette. We’re supposed to write an introduction for ourselves.
SQUIRM MERE MORTALS! INTRODUCING:
FROGWART RISENSHINE
THE ... the ...
invisible?
back to top
Girls have it easy, they’re just witches.
In any case, Professor Thornwroot says it doesn’t matter if we know what we’re called so long as we know what we are. Arsenic, by any other name, would taste as bitter and all that sort of thing.
Professor Thornwroot is very serious about us knowing what we are. The only problem is: he won’t tell us.
“It wouldn’t mean anything if I just told you!” he exclaims at random intervals – oft times when we haven’t asked him to tell us but are quietly mixing poisons.
I must admit: I have a thing for poisons. While the others groan when Professor Thornwroot tells us to kindle a fire under our cauldrons and begin stirring, I respond with ready enthusiasm. I love potions in general, and poisons are my specialty.
And antidotes.
We’re not supposed to make antidotes in class – or at all, for that matter – for fear we will be tempted to use them. But I can’t help it. The power of an antidote astounds me – to be able to completely stop the poison from attacking. So what if it is white magic?
Of course, potions are not the only thing we are studying.
We started code-breaking to-day, because if you cannot crack a prince’s code you are not truly fit to keep the princess anyways.
Not that I can imagine EVER wanting to kidnap a princess. They are so whiney.
Yesterday, Spitwad turned one of the princesses from the nearby school’s book bag in-to a goat which proceeded to eat her school papers and, instead of socking him or turning him in-to a frog, she began to cry.
If there is one thing I cannot tolerate, it’s a blubbering female. The other guys left, laughing, but I hung around.
“Hey, relax, it’s no big deal.”
Apparently dissatisfied with my comforting she began to shriek at me: “NO BIG DEAL?! The final draft of my History project was in there! Along with a piece of embroidery I’d been working on for months, and ... and ...” here she began to cry again, “And my BFF charm bracelet!”
Honestly, princesses.
I wish a goat would eat my homework, thus giving me an excuse.
(Maybe I’ll tell Professor Thornwroot that to-morrow. If nothing else, I’ll get extra credit for lying)
Anyways, where was I? Ah, yes: Code breaking.
Our teacher in this subject, Professor Thistlewood, can’t be more than 150, but, by the sound of it, he’s been everywhere and seen everything.
A short while ago a very famous prince was going to marry a (also very famous) princess. The princes started to babble pointlessly and the princess turned in-to a bat. Professor Thistlewood was fully responsible.
An ogre ate a sage just as he was on the brink of an amazing discovery, but it wouldn’t have done so without a bit of egging from Prof Thistlewood.
And the Great Diamond Wall didn’t collapse because of termites.
Of course, he didn’t tell us this himself (it’s bad luck to brag) but wrote a detailed journal, which was published by Thank Badness Publishing Co.
This is one of the two reasons I’m keeping a journal. The other is that Professor Thornwroot says it is the only way we’ll find out “what we are”.
But what are we supposed to write about? What I ate for breakfast? (Rotten strawberries on moldy WHOLE WHEAT toast, because my mother is doing another of her crazy diets) My extreme lack of sleep? (I’m just impressed I can tell one end of my quill from the other) I’m wearing orange and black socks? (They’re really cool, actually)
Well ... how about our lessons?
History class was boring to the point of death last term, but this term we’re studying PRACTICAL JOKES. This week it’s the basic Hollow’s Fool jokes, but next week it’s on to the more ... exciting pranks.
We’re studying dramatic entrances (everything from the usual puff of purple smoke to flying in on a magically enlarged bat) and grand introductions in etiquette. We’re supposed to write an introduction for ourselves.
SQUIRM MERE MORTALS! INTRODUCING:
FROGWART RISENSHINE
THE ... the ...
invisible?
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